


Thanks

by Sunny_Bee



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Cafes, Friendship, Happy Ending, Macarons, Other, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunny_Bee/pseuds/Sunny_Bee
Summary: Ib still comes back to the gallery for years after her first visit, though she doesn't quite understand her attachment to The Forgotten Portrait, or why it makes her feel as though she's forgetting something incredibly important.





	

A girl stands in an art gallery, gazing up at a painting as she had done yesterday and many days before that. The Forgotten Portrait remained the same: a window to another world observing a young man lost in slumber. This painting was quite different than all the others. The artist who had painted it was famous for his wild, disturbing, abstract pieces, yet this particular piece was undeniably realistic. Many theorize that this was the artist himself; but others disagree, saying that the subject in this painting is far too young.

There were many things that the girl loved about this painting: the strange man, his lavender hair, his tattered jacket, but she especially loved the roses - thousands of scraps of royal blue velvet on old canvas- and the delicate stem he clutched in his hand that held a single petal, clinging to the stem as though all life depended on it. It filled her to the brim with hope, though she didn’t know why.

She felt as though she knew the man in the painting, but the memory was like a favorite shirt that had gone through the wash too many times and lost its color; long forgotten, but cherished nonetheless. Sometimes, she would barely taste lemon candies or catch a whiff of cigarette smoke. The answers would dance on her tongue, then scamper away when she tried to catch them. 

On one particular day she stood in the quiet bustle of the gallery, smiling as though she were recalling memories with an old friend. 

“Thank you,” the girl tells the portrait warmly - she was sure that there was a reason to thank him - then she turns to leave. Only to bump into someone. She apologizes profusely, but the man declines each one with a shake of his head. “It isn’t a problem, miss,” he assures, placing a bit of cloth in her hands. “I do believe this is yours,” he says, which confuses her, though she thanks the man nonetheless. The handkerchief was indeed hers, it was a gift from her mother for her ninth birthday, but she distinctly remembered losing it and couldn’t comprehend how it could be returned to her nearly ten years later. 

“Well,” the man nods politely towards the exit of the gallery, “I was about to leave. Would you like to join me? I do believe there’s a cafe down the street that you’ll love.” 

The girl looks down and the handkerchief, and back up at the man. He smiled, warm and familiar. She was nervous, and looked to The Forgotten Portrait for advice - only to find that it had changed. The slumbering man with the lavander hair and the tattered coat was no longer there. Instead, the painting showed a much older man with thinning, white hair and round glasses that were too big for his face. He wore a painters smock, and the entire piece was covered in miscellaneous splotches of paint. It fit in with the rest of the gallery, but the girl was bewildered. Where had the original painting gone? 

She looked back at the man she had just met, and found the answers she needed. His hair was dark, but it was styled the same way, and he still wore that ratty, old coat. A smile takes over her face as she remembers his promise. “I’d like that a lot,” she says, taking him by the arm. The man stills, caught by surprise, but his expression warms, and he gives her arm a gentle pat. 

They leave the gallery together, arm in arm like all those years before.


End file.
